


just like kisses on the necks of best friends

by briony_larkin



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Background Jane/Thor, F/M, Fake Dating, Steve is emotionally constipated, Thor Is Not Stupid, background Tony/Pepper, background bucky/natasha/sam, darcy's a little insecure, natasha romanoff: professional matchmaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:39:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8056771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/briony_larkin/pseuds/briony_larkin
Summary: based on the prompt "our asshole mutual friends set us up on a blind date, so instead of getting to know each other we spent the whole date scheming against them and we decide an awesome way to get back at them would be to pretend to date and then have a horrendous breakup but now that we're two months into this charade we're not sure what's real and what's fake anymore"





	1. just off the key of reason

**Author's Note:**

> so i'm, like, weirdly nervous about posting this. it's been sitting here, finished, for a couple days. usually as soon as i finish something i just dump it on the internet like "lol here you go" but not this time? weird. anyway, here you go, hope you like it.
> 
> minor edits 1/13/18

Darcy doesn’t like blind dates. Hates them, in fact. She’s pretty sure that she’s not alone in thinking blind dates are Satan’s way of dating. Actually, it’s just like that one quote about socialism her economics professor was fond of reciting: “workable only in heaven, where they don’t need it, and in hell, where they have it.”

And yet somehow, here she is. On a blind date. But really, Natasha seems to take a certain satisfaction in matchmaking, and Darcy may not be scared of her favorite spysassin, but– actually, she may somehow be best friends with the spysassin. (Seriously, what is her life?) And that would be how she ended up here: not a lot makes Natasha happy. So if matchmaking does, then Darcy will let Nat matchmake her to her heart’s content.

Or maybe that should be _Darcy’s_ heart’s content.

Whichever it is, it is actually probably a better hookup system than Darcy could come up with. After all, the candidates Natasha chooses are more thoroughly vetted than the director of the FBI. Or SHIELD. Or the CIA– you get the idea.  
Darcy walks through the door of what’s actually a pretty nice restaurant (damn, her date better be paying; she may be a feminist, but she is currently a broke college graduate one who is not above taking advantage of traditional gender roles for a night) and gives her name to the maitre d’, who motions for someone to lead her to a table in the back, and–

 _Oh_ hell _no._

_Steven Fucking Rogers?!_

_Natasha, how the_ fuck _did this seem like a good idea?!_

*****

Darcy does not actually hate Steve Rogers, but he is definitely not one of her favorite people. She used to have a bit of a crush on him, in fact. Then she got to know him, and it turns out that while Captain America is great (truth, justice, and the American way, saving the world, and all that), Steve Rogers is kind of an asshole. And that isn't because she can't handle an unrequited crush (did you mean: her entire high school experience?), but he’s just flat-out a douchebag to her. And Darcy doesn't tend to like people who don't like her. She's petty like that.

Seriously, though, all she did was ask him about his favorite foods growing up _one time_ , and he's looked at her like she's gum on the bottom of his shoe ever since.

Darcy really hasn’t forgiven him for eating her cooking just fine until he found out who it was that was cooking and he totally stopped. That was definitely personal. She would like to say that she forgives grudges like insults against her cooking easily, but, well, liars go to hell, and personally, she plans on going to hell for something a lot more fun than lying. And then every time since then that she ever tried to be nice, he acted like there was something seriously wrong with her. So, no, she’s not particularly fond of Steven Grant Rogers and suffering through a blind date with him sounds like hell, thanks, Natasha.

She stands behind Steve's chair for a while, wondering if it'd be better to leave now and let him think he got stood up (and she'd have to face upset Natasha, ooh) or sit down and endure the totally painful awkward dinner that must lie ahead. Her decision is made for her when Steve turns around and sees her standing there.

_Super-solider hearing? ...Probably. Dammit._

*****

Steve rubs the back of his neck. Why did he agree to this thing again? Darcy would probably claim it was Natasha and Bucky’s super secret spysassin powers. He grudgingly admits to himself that she wouldn't be totally wrong. Natasha’s been trying to set him up with someone she assures him he’ll really like for ages, and Bucky knows damn well he just has to give Steve a Look and he’ll cave. (Bucky totally and completely takes advantage of that.)

It really hasn’t been that long since he got here, but his date must be running a little bit late because it's 7:05 and they'd been supposed to meet at 7:00. Steve hears someone behind him walking with the click of high heels and that must be her. But the sounds stop and she's been standing behind him for at least half a minute, so he turns around to see if something’s wrong– and that’s Darcy Lewis. Natasha and Bucky set him up with Darcy Lewis? What the hell?

Steve cannot comprehend why on earth this seemed like a good idea. Sure, she’s probably one of the most gorgeous dames Steve has ever seen (especially right now, with her hair curled and tumbling down her back and the bare skin of her shoulders, the red dress she’s wearing perfectly matching her lipstick and contrasting against her creamy pale skin and she looks like a pinup girl, a fucking wet dream), but she gets on every last nerve he has, which Bucky and Natasha both know perfectly well.

He really can’t explain why she annoys him so much. She’s pretty and has a sense of humor and a mouth that reminds him of the girls in his neighborhood that weren’t “respectable,” not that he put much store by that, but she’s genuine and kind in a way that he just doesn’t understand. Maybe that’s it. He doesn’t understand her. She doesn’t make sense to him. And Steve Rogers does not like things that don't make sense.

Still, Darcy is here and they're supposed to be on a date and so Steve will be a gentleman. He stands up and pulls her chair out for her. She sits down sort of awkwardly. “Miss Lewis,” he greets her curtly.

“Captain Rogers,” she says quietly, nodding at him.

*****

Darcy can feel something tightening in her gut as they make awkward small talk and there's a sense of panic there that threatens to take her over. She digs her nails into the heels of her palms and breathes. She’s really not sure what he’s saying. Perfectly honestly, she hasn’t really been able to pay attention; she’s been way too busy freaking out. Darcy cuts into whatever he was saying and bluntly states, “Look, I know you don’t really want to be here right now.” It looks like Steve will protest politely before she points at him and says, “And don’t do that thing where you’re trying to be nice so you say stuff you don’t really mean. I hate it when people do that.” He closes his mouth with an almost audible snap. She continues, not waiting for any apology he might attempt. “So our asshole mutual friends set us up on a date. I swear, when did my life turn into a tumblr story?” He looks at her quizzically. “Never mind, that’s not important. The point is, I think I’ve got an idea to get back at them.”

Steve leans forward. “Well, enlighten me. You know I’m all about the plans.” 

Darcy jabs her finger at him. “The sarcasm is not appreciated, Captain Rogers. Now, are you in it for petty revenge, or do you want to prove again that you’re above all the rest of us mere mortals?”

“Hey,” Steve narrows his eyes at her. “I'm not–”

Darcy waves her hand. “Yeah, yeah, you're just a man, not a hero, just a boy who had to sing this song–”

“What?”

“– or whatever,” Darcy finishes. (Hey, her little sister had gone through a serious My Chemical Romance phase. She could quote “Welcome to the Black Parade” backwards in her sleep.) “Petty revenge. Pranking our friends. Are you in or are you out?”

Steve smirks, looks at her with a glint of mischief in his eyes, and she can finally see how someone would say he has a sense of humor. “What's the plan?” 

She leans closer to him. “Alright, so this whole thing,” she waves her hand in the air, presumably to encapsulate ‘this whole thing’, “started because Nat and Bucky think we need to date people and they think they know who to set us up with.”

“And?” Steve raises his eyebrow. “We're going to get them to stop matchmaking us how?”

Darcy rolls her eyes. “Don't interrupt, Captain Tightass. We’re going to fake date,” she informs him. He gives her a look that screams skepticism and incredulity. “Look,” she explains, “if we’re fake dating, they can’t set us up with anyone else, right?”

She waits until he reluctantly nods before she continues.

“And then we have a massive, terrible, emotional breakup, like, right in front of their faces in a couple months, and they won’t want to set us up with anyone for a while.”

Steve rolls his eyes. _Like that could work. ...Actually..._ “Actually, that might work,” he says slowly.

Darcy’s face splits into a wide grin. She can’t help it, really. Come on, Captain America said she has a good plan! ...Hold on.

“Does this mean you think I have a good plan?” she cooes.

His face tightens and he doesn’t respond. 

“Come on, Steve, say I have a good plan. Say it. Say it, Steve.” She reaches across the table and pokes his arm.

She’s acting like such a child and probably he should be irritated or something by her behavior but her smile is infectious and so he mimes zipping his lips shut before (only a little bit reluctantly) smiling back at her.

“Come on, Steve, say it. I have a good plan. Say it. Say it. Say it. God, just say it!”

*****

In a move that surprises absolutely no one, Natasha is waiting at Darcy’s apartment when she gets back from the dinner that turned out to be a helluva lot less awkward, once Steve finally admitted she had a good plan. She’s actually smiling as she walks through the door and drops her purse heavily by the door. 

“You had fun on your date,” Natasha states.

Darcy groans loudly as she moves back to her room and throws her heels at the closet wall. “Seriously, Nat, you’ve got to stop doing this!”

Natasha raises her eyebrow. Darcy can’t see it, but she is sure that Natasha raises her eyebrow. “Haven’t you learned to expect it by now?” she says, sounding almost bored.

Darcy emerges from her room into the living room solely so she can point a finger at Nat and be certain she saw it. “That is so not the point.” Nat rolls her eyes as Darcy continues. “The point is that it’s not nice to just break into someone’s room without their permission.”

Natasha’s face is very expressive, and right now, it is totally saying, “Really? I’m pretty sure that being friends with me is basically an understanding that this sort of stuff will happen.”

“Oh, never mind,” Darcy huffs. She moves into the kitchen to make Nat a cup of coffee (black like her soul) and herself a cup of tea. Natasha follows her and sits down at the table.

Darcy sits down with their drinks and silently passes Nat her coffee. Natasha’s face splits into a grin– or well, as close to a grin as Natasha ever gets– and she asks, “But really, how was it?”

“Girl talk?!” Darcy squeals. She bounces up and down in her seat exuberantly, then abruptly stops and jabs a finger at Natasha. “Hey. Just because I'm excited for girl talk does not mean that setting me up with Steven Grant Rogers, aka Captain You-Bet-Your-Sweet-Ass America, was okay. It is so not. I'm just always a slut for girl talk. And the mandatory ice cream that must necessarily accompany said girl talk.”

Natasha smiles fondly. “Chunky Monkey?” 

Darcy drops her accusing finger and grins back at her. “You bet your sweet ass.” 

They are seated in Darcy’s living room while Taylor Swift plays in the background (rule number two of girl talk, right after the ice cream: Tay Tay is the only acceptable music for girl talk) and Natasha waits until this song about castles and daydreams has struck its last chord before innocently asking, “But you had a good time on your date, didn’t you?” 

Darcy bites her lip and sulkily admits, “It wasn’t as terrible as I thought it would be. I guess.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Such glowing praise.”

“Hey, I thought it would be something similar to, I don't know, swimming in man-eating shark-infested waters. No, actually that might be a little harsh. On the sharks. The tenth circle of hell?” She thinks for a second before deciding, “Nah, the eleventh. That sounds about right.”

“It sounds like there really wasn't anywhere to go but up,” Natasha says dryly.

Darcy scoffs. “Oh, _believe_ me, there really, _really_ wasn't.”

“Okay, okay,” Nat rolls her eyes. “I get it. Setting you up with Steve. Not cool. You thought it would be literal hell. But you have to give me some details!” She grabs Darcy's hand.

“Fine, fine,” Darcy laughs. She casts her mind around, looking for something to say. This is where their plan starts.

Natasha has to think they really like each other. Natasha will also see through any of Darcy's poor attempts at lying (Darcy maintains that lying is a terrible reason to go to hell) much too easily for it to be an actual option. The best thing to do here is carefully phrase everything so that it isn't lying, and if Natasha suspects she's keeping something back, she'll put it down to Darcy’s stubborn nature and not wanting to admit she likes Steve as much as she does. Hypothetically, of course. She does not like Steve. “Um, he actually has a sense of humor? I didn't really know that. But he's funny,” she says thoughtfully. Darcy steals a glance at Natasha. Oh yeah, she's totally buying it.

“So what did you guys talk about?” Natasha asks eagerly.

Darcy waves her hand. “Well, it was a little awkward at first... Then I made him admit that it was hella awkward and it got... less... awkward... Is that irony? That's irony, right?” she wonders.

Nat rolls her eyes. “Yes, that's irony. Now tell me what you talked about!” she demands.

“Okay, okay, fine! I don't know... I mean, it sort of blurred together. I can't really tell you any specific lines or anything. I think we talked about work, maybe? I asked him about Tolkien, and he talked about that for a while. He was excited that _The Hobbit_ was still something people liked and he said it felt familiar,” Darcy allows a half-smile to grace her lips at that. It had honestly been pretty damn adorable. “He agreed that _The Lord of The Rings_ movies were better than _The Hobbit_ movies, though, as he should, because only a heathen would think otherwise, and that there should’ve been more female characters, because _damn straight_.”

“Did he kiss you?”

“No!” Darcy exclaims a little too quickly, and she hurriedly tries to draw attention away from it. “Gosh, Natasha, it was only the first date,” she laughs nervously. “Would his old-timey, forties sensibilities even _let_ him do something like that?”

Natasha _hmms_ , a knowing glint in her eyes. “You know he's not a virgin, right?”

“Oh my God, Nat!” Darcy pulls away from Natasha like she’s been scalded. “What the _fuck_?!”

“I just thought it might be good information to have, for, oh, three weeks from now.” Natasha shrugs her shoulders and looks at Darcy innocently.

“How the hell do you know he’s not a virgin?” Darcy demands. Natasha opens her mouth like she’s going to respond before Darcy quickly says, “No, no, no, no, no! Do not answer that question. I do _not_ want to know.”

Natasha just smirks as Darcy’s face gets redder and redder. “You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?” she asks smugly.

Darcy points her spoon at Natasha. “Nope. Not at all.”

Natasha looks pointedly at Darcy’s flushed cheeks and heaving chest.

“Shut your face!” Darcy yelps. “But really,” she says, “he was on tour with all those girls for, like, a year, right? I don’t know who I’d be more disappointed in if he was a virgin, honestly, him or them.”

“So do you two have another date planned?” Natasha moves on.

“Noooo...” Darcy trails off.

“But?” Natasha prompts.

Darcy looks at the ceiling and smiles. “His number may be in my phone.”

“And...?”

She bites her lip before admitting, “And I may have already texted him.”

*****

In a move that is eerily similar to Natasha’s (and probably planned out beforehand, let's be real), Bucky is also waiting when Steve gets home, leaning casually against the kitchen counter. It does break slightly less boundaries, though, as Steve and Bucky share their apartment in the tower. Yes, Bucky spends a lot of his nights at Natasha or Sam’s place, but that is beside the point– they are still technically sharing. Steve walks through the door, takes one look at Bucky’s shit-eating grin, and heaves a long-suffering sigh.

“How was the date, punk?”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Really, Buck?”

Bucky punches his shoulder, grabs two beers from the fridge, and plops down on the couch. “You know it. Now c’mon, how was the date?”

Steve takes the beer Bucky offers him and sits down next to him. “Jerk,” he mutters.

“You know,” Bucky takes a swig of his drink, “that doesn’t sound a lot like you telling me about your date, which is what I remember asking about. Funny.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Seriously? You’re worse than Natasha. Gossiping like a pair of old women, the two of you.”

“Hey.” Bucky points a finger at him in a move that feels reminiscent of something Darcy has done. “I don’t appreciate your gender roles.”

Steve rolls his eyes again. “I’m glad Darcy has gotten you so invested in the feminist movement.”

Bucky scoffs. “If you think it was just Darcy, then I think I’m finally convinced that serum dumbed you down, punk. Natasha would have my head if I were anything else. So would Pepper. I can think of a hundred people that would take us both out if we weren’t ‘so invested in the feminist movement’, not to mention it’s a damned good movement and we don’t need the incentive, which you know perfectly fucking well. And don’t try to change the subject. I’m not gonna ask you to answer my question again.”

“And what are you gonna do if I don’t answer?”

“Easy.” Bucky grins. “I’ll just call Darcy and ask her.”

Steve pales the tiniest bit. What would Darcy say? He isn’t really sure he wants to know. “Alright, fine. It was good.”

Steve isn’t exactly sure what’s going on with Bucky, Sam, and Natasha. He is pretty sure that he is never going to ask, because he doesn’t really think he wants all the information that that conversation would likely give him. He does know that whatever they are doing must have terrifying implications if it means that Bucky can now give him Natasha-esque Looks. Right now, this look says, “You’re holding out on me and you will stop that and give me the information I want or there is pain in your future,” quite clearly.

“Okay, okay,” he sighs. “I had a nice time and I think she did too. It started off a little awkward, but it got better. We talked a little bit about Tolkien and the books versus the movies. We exchanged numbers.” And hopefully, that’ll be enough to get Bucky off his back.

“Did you kiss her?” Bucky asks with a knowing glint in his eye.

“No!” Steve yelps. “Bucky! It was only the first date!”

Bucky scoffs. “Well, it ain’t like you’re a blushing virgin.”

“I still don’t really think it’s okay to kiss a girl on the first date.” Steve rubs his eyes.

“It’s the twenty-first century, punk. Hell, when me and–”

“Nope, no thanks,” Steve shudders. “I really don't want to hear anything about what you, Sam, and Natasha may or may not have done.”

Bucky shrugs, mischief plain in his expression. “Your loss. I could probably give you some pointers.”

“Yeah, okay, well, when I want those mental scars, I'll let you know.”


	2. this scene won't play

This week has honestly not been the best for Darcy. Tony’s been blowing stuff up in the labs again and Jane went on a crazy bad science bender. And it’s not like it’s even her job to deal with that anymore! You'd think Pepper Potts’s personal assistant would have better things to do with her time– and she does, believe her, but Jane had another assistant quit on her– not that she's noticed– and Tony likes Darcy better than everyone except Pepper and Rhodey, who were both busy, which made his explosions her problem.

Her second (fake) date with Steve had gone really well. She would dare say that it had been fun, but she’s still feeling a bit petty. (No one insults her cooking. Darcy Lewis does not take such insults lightly.) Still, they’d gone to this art gallery and then a cute little coffee shop she knew, and if she were admitting ridiculous things like having _fun_ , she would also say she likes being around Steve.

Darcy is not, however, admitting such ridiculous things at this time and suggests you try again some other day. Like never. Because that's when she'll get over her grudge against Steven Grant Rogers. Or maybe when (if) he ever doesn't hate her. Or when hell freezes over. Whichever comes first.

But that's totally not the point. The point is being made by Tony, right now, in fact, because he _will not shut up_ about how her third (fake) date is tonight, and _yes_ , Tony, she _does_ know what that usually means. However, tonight it does not mean that. Darcy is most definitely not getting laid and she hasn't for a while now, thank you all so much for reminding her. And it just makes it worse because she’s supposed to be getting laid by _Captain Fucking America_. But fucking Captain America is, unfortunately, the exact opposite of what she’s doing. Really, just because Steve isn't her favorite person doesn't mean she doesn't have eyes. The man is damn attractive. Seriously, she would bang him like a screen door in a hurricane. Multiple times. “Hey, Short and Stacked,” Tony calls. Darcy sighs. “What, Tony?” “You think the Star-Spangled Man With a Plan has any maneuvers set in place for tonight?” He waggles his eyebrows. She crinkles her nose. “Not your best.” Undeterred, Tony keeps talking. “You planning on making Red, White, and Blue a little more red,” he gestures to his chest and face, “and a lot less blue?” He smirks, his hands indicating his crotch. Steve comes in just then and narrows his eyes at Tony. "Come on, man. Cut that shit out." 

“Ooh, Capsicle, getting defensive, are we?” Tony cackles.

Steve rolls his eyes and chooses not to dignify that with a response. Instead, he smiles at Darcy and she really can’t help it– her heart flutters and she smiles back. “Hey, doll.”

Her mouth goes dry and her knees are weak, but she somehow manages to stutter out a faint, “Hey.”

He reaches out and strokes his thumb along the inside of her wrist and she could swear he can feel her heart pound. “What time are you going to be ready for tonight?”

“I don’t know, Cap, I’d say she’s _ready_ right now,” Tony snickers. Steve flips him off without looking away from Darcy and Tony’s laughing gets louder. “No thanks,” he gasps, “but I’m sure Darcy would be _more_ than happy to.” 

Darcy sighs and buries her head in her hands. “He’s been like this _all day_ ,” she whines.

 _It’s kind of cute, actually_ , Steve thinks. Wait. No he doesn’t. He does not think she’s cute. Objectively good-looking, sure, but not cute, because he does not like Darcy Lewis and he absolutely does not think of her that way.

Steve shakes himself out of his thoughts. “Seven sound good?”

“Yeah, okay,” Darcy looks at him with what he almost would think is fondness of some sort. Whatever else she is or isn’t, she’s definitely a damn good actress.

He cups her face with one hand and runs his thumb across her cheekbone. “See you then, sweetheart.” He leans down and gently kisses her forehead before leaving.

Darcy just stands there. Her face has flooded with heat, she knows, but she honestly can’t move.

Of course Tony can be trusted to break whatever spell she was under. “He really hasn't kissed you yet?” He actually looks sort of amazed. “Hell, I'm almost sorry for teasing you." 

Of course Tony can be trusted to break whatever spell she was under. “Has he even kissed you yet?” He actually looks sort of amazed. “Hell, I'm almost sorry for teasing you. It doesn't look like you've made it to _first_ base. No _way_ you're hitting a home run tonight.”

“Yeah,” Darcy says wryly. “Thanks for the reminder.”

And there it is, the absolute worst part of her week: she might not be able to put that blush down to just sexual attraction. Like, it's just totally unfair that someone who looks like a Greek god is also kind of a little shit in a way that, unfortunately, just makes him _more attractive_. And that along with the fact that he's actually a nice person? Ridiculous.

See, Darcy won't admit it, but she's starting to have an inkling of a feeling that she could possibly have for them for Steve. Feelings, that is.

But that would be beyond stupid. She's been on two dates with the man! And they haven't even been real! God, she doesn't even admit to liking people after real-dating them for, like, a month. And Darcy has done stupid things. _Plenty_ of stupid things. But developing a fucking crush on Steve fucking Rogers when she's not sure he even thinks of her as at least a _friend_? That would easily be the stupidest thing she's ever done.

So Darcy absolutely, positively, _will not_ have a crush on Steve Rogers. Instead she will crush her feelings. Like a grape. Or live in a constant state of denial. Neither one should be all that hard. She's had plenty of practice.

*****

Their fake dates are certainly thorough– they have to be, to fool the number of spies they live with–, Steve will say that much. He's supposed to be making dinner for her at his apartment (which probably isn't helping the misconception that he'll sleep with Darcy– though now that he thinks about it, that mastermind probably planned that herself), so he has actually spent the last couple hours making spaghetti. After he kicked Bucky out and made him go to either Sam or Natasha’s place, of course.

And when Darcy gets over to his place at seven, she looks amazing. Not quite as dolled up as she was on their first date, but damned gorgeous all the same. She's got on a blue sundress the color of the sky that is _really fucking low_ and _really fucking short_ and she's wearing sandals and red lipstick again and it's hot as fucking hell, but he is trying his best to tell that part of his brain to shut the hell up.

Hmm. He swears a lot more when he's thinking about her, doesn't he?

That’s probably because she annoys him. Right?

Except this fake-dating thing is making it really hard for him to insist to himself that he thinks she’s annoying. He’s been spending time with her and getting to know her, and not even on purpose, but he still knows that she is not annoying. Sure, she’s got a mouth, and plenty of modern ideals, but he doesn’t understand why people think he would find that annoying. He doesn’t. At all. Really, it might be easier for him if he did. Instead, he can’t help himself from feeling a pull towards Darcy Lewis, because hell if she doesn’t have it all– she’s beautiful and kind and funny and doesn’t take any shit from anyone. She’s really everything he admires and he almost doesn’t understand how he didn’t see it before.

But Steve definitely doesn’t feel that way about Darcy. It’d be a terrible idea to feel that way about anyone, let alone someone that he’s slowly becoming certain only deserves the best, not someone with the fuckton of issues he has, who would put her in danger, who couldn’t necessarily be honest with her all the time– It would be better for everyone involved to not go there.

And besides, Darcy doesn’t like him, so none of that matters anyway.

Darcy clears her throat and he hopes he hasn’t been staring at her for long.

“Darcy!” he exclaims, and then winces, because his voice seems way too loud. “Uh, come on in.”

She steps in close to him, so close he can pick up the difference in the scents of her shampoo (something citrus) and her perfume (light, flowery) and something that is unique to her, that's just _Darcy_ (completely indescribable and intoxicating). There's a tug in his lower gut that he can't quite define but he swears that it's pulling him towards her. Darcy stands on her tiptoes and he feels her breath across his ear and the tug gets stronger. She whispers, “I think Natasha and Bucky and probably Sam are watching us. You might want to kiss me.”

But there is something that keeps Steve from touching her lips, something that insists this should not be the way their mouths first meet. He wants to kiss her, whatever else he may deny, God, he cannot deny that.

(He is a ship lost at sea and her light may be his saving grace.)

Instead, he kisses her forehead and leads her inside. But not before flipping off the hallway at large. Hopefully Bucky and Sam caught that.

Darcy looks up at him when he shuts the door, raises an eyebrow and cocks a hip. “You know, that's not really what I had in mind when I–” _a little selfishly_ , she admits to herself– “suggested a kiss.”

“I know,” he says, feeling almost defensive of his actions.

Steve’s slightly cool response makes her breath catch and not in a good way. So he definitely didn't want to kiss her, then. Still... “They're going to notice that you don't kiss me.” She folds her arms over her chest almost protectively, though she can't imagine what she would be protecting herself from.

Steve looks at her skeptically. “I don't think they'll notice.”

Darcy scoffs. “Tony said something about it, Steve. _Tony_. If _he_ noticed something like that from you, that means it's pretty damn noticeable. He just thinks you're being Slow-Moving Steve, that being frozen for so long gave you lots of similarities to a glacier.”

“I'm not–” Steve begins hotly.

“I know, Steve, I know. Tony doesn't, but I do, and so do Bucky and Natasha and Sam and Thor and Clint and Pepper and hell, probably Jane and Bruce too! We all look at the way you rush into things and we all figure that you're pretty reckless in probably everything. Once you decide to go for it and jump, you fall fast.”

“I would like it if he wouldn't make jokes about being frozen,” Steve says stiffly.

“I know,” she sighs. “But really, it's not like he means it. It's more of a defense mechanism? Like, he's been hurt kind of a lot so he pushes people away, but he'll tear his heart out for the people he loves?” Darcy tries to explain. She snaps her fingers as she comes up with an example. “I mean, he paid all my student loans off because he decided he likes me and he wouldn't even let me thank him.” She tugs her fingers through her hair and bites her bottom lip. “I know it bugs you when he acts like he doesn't care, but it's not because he doesn't. It's because he cares, he thinks, way too much and it's scary.”

Steve sort of just stares at her in wonder. “How are you so good at reading people?”

“Oh. Um, I don't know,” Darcy stammers and blushes. “I've just... had lots of practice? It's just something I'm good at, I guess?”

He just keeps staring at her in shock and maybe admiration (she hopes admiration, please let it be admiration, or just something good he connects with _her_ ). Eventually, he shakes himself out of it. “Wow. I think you might be making me look at Tony in a new way.” He chuckles to himself with a little bit of disbelief. Darcy Lewis is a hell of a dame. “And I think you're right. About kissing,” he clarifies.

Darcy looks at him with wide eyes like she senses there's more to it than that.

He rubs the back of his neck and says awkwardly, “I, um, didn't want to, out in the hall,” and Darcy’s stomach drops and it's just because he's objectively attractive and it'd be nice to think he wants to kiss her, she tells herself, “because it, uh, I didn't want to just as show. It wouldn't've been right.”

Steve isn't sure she understands what he's really saying (it's not because of her, he wouldn't mind kissing– would really like to kiss– her) until he looks into her eyes and sees them full of understanding and hope and God, it's terrifying that she cannot conceal her emotions, that he always knows what she feels.

There is a softness, a kindness in her eyes, when she gently says, “If it makes you uncomfortable, we don't have to...” Of course it would make him uncomfortable. Of course it would. He may not be a virgin (thanks Nat), but he still probably would like _some_ feelings if they were going to kiss. He probably isn't exactly used to how casual things like kissing are now, or how open everyone is about it or something. Fuck, she should've thought about that. _Stupid_ , she curses herself.

But... “That's not it, really,” and his eyes are begging for her to understand but she's not sure she does. “Just as long as the first time we kiss isn't in front of them...”

So that's the hang up. It's just the first time they kiss. Darcy’s face breaks into a smile. It's really sort of adorable that he has a sentimental attachment to kissing someone for the first time. First kisses were always sort of special in her opinion too. Except this time she was honestly just trying to get him to kiss her because it's not like she cares about him romantically or anything. Duh. So she keeps smiling at him and wraps her arms around his neck, pushing herself up to be level with his face, and gently (sweetly) presses her lips to his.

Steve is in shock because holy _fuck_ , _Darcy_ is _kissing him_ and she tastes like raspberries and her lips are so soft and it's like his whole body has been lit up with lightening. And then he realizes that _Darcy is kissing him and he isn't kissing her back_. He bends down, wraps one arm around her waist and one under her thighs and hauls her up against him, walking over to the kitchen and setting her down on the counter (just so she doesn't have to stand on her tiptoes, of course).

Darcy moans into his mouth because _no shit he's not a virgin_ (and also she has a thing for being manhandled like that whoops). This is probably the best kiss she's ever had, his teeth scraping over her bottom lip _exactly_ the way she likes, _how does he know how to do that_? He has one hand fisted in her hair and the other one is driving her crazy, tracing circles on her back. Darcy shifts and oh, _hello_ , there is definitely something against her hip that's getting hard. If she doesn't stop this, it'll go too far and he'll definitely regret it. (Somehow, she doesn't think she would.)

She doesn't want him to regret her.

She takes control of the kiss again, control she'd lost the instant he kissed her back, slowing it down until their lips part and their foreheads stay pressed together. The room is silent except for the sounds of their labored breathing. “Hey,” she whispers.

“Hey.”

Steve and Darcy stare at each other. The oven timer for the garlic bread goes off, though, and it shatters the fragile spell spun between them. Darcy hops from her perch on the counter and helps Steve finish what little still needs to be done for dinner. They fall into conversation as easily and naturally as falling asleep. Darcy asks him what he thinks about the Harry Potter series, which, she had been appalled to learn on their last date, no one had considered necessary for Steve to know about, and so she had brought him her copies of the books the next day.

“They're really good. I like them,” Steve says.

Darcy rolls her eyes. “Of course they are and of course you do. Our friendship would be in danger if you didn't think so.”

“So if I said they were terrible and I hated them?”

Darcy sniffs. “I may allow you to say that. Once.” But she smiles at him and he knows she's probably mostly only joking. “I would, of course, have to pretend you never said that or we couldn't be friends.”

(She hopes she's not pushing her luck by calling them friends so many times.)

(He hopes that since she considers them friends, he might have a chance– if he likes her. Which he doesn’t. He might. Dammit.)

“So what book are you up to?” Darcy asks, setting the last of the food down on the table.

“I'm just starting book seven,” he says, pulling her chair out for her. She looks at him in surprise and sits down. No one has ever pulled her chair out for her when they aren't in public and maybe it would rub her the wrong way but it's him trying to be polite and it's more endearing than she thought it would be.

She shakes her head. “I just gave you those books, like, a week ago. How are you already on the last one?”

“I’m a fast reader?” he offers.

“Do you like Snape?” Darcy asks with a glint in her eye Steve recognizes that clearly says she’s out to “troll” him, as she likes to call it. Bucky usually just calls it being a little shit.

“Of course not! How could anyone like Snape?” He’s sort of exaggerating his horror for her benefit and he’s glad he does because Darcy _actually giggles_ and it’s fucking adorable. _Dammit._

He's so fucked.

“Well, there is something in the last book that he does that makes people forgive him.” Darcy takes a bite of her spaghetti and moans. She honestly didn't mean to, but holy shit, it's good. (Steve's eyes get darker at the sound, though she doesn't notice.) “Wow, this is really good.”

“Thanks,” he says roughly. He clears his throat and his voice goes back to normal. “But I can't imagine anything that Snape could do to earn that. He's a bully.”

“I actually agree.” Darcy waves her hand at him. “I think that whatever else you forgive him for, I can't forget the way he treats kids. Like, that isn't made up. I had teachers like that and they're horrible and damaging. But lots of people don't agree because of his history with Harry’s parents and also Alan Rickman.”

“Alan Rickman?” His brow wrinkles and his nose scrunches up.

Darcy says an internal prayer of thanks that Steve will never understand everything because confusion looks pretty damn good on him. Everything looks pretty damn good on him. She wonders vaguely how _she_ would look on him before quickly derailing that train from its way to Haven't Been Laid in Months and Just Had The Best Kiss of My Life Fantasyland and instead directing it to Nopeville. “Alan Rickman is the guy who plays Snape in the movies,” she explains.

“Ah.”

He still doesn't look like he quite gets it, though, so she asks, “You have been watching the movies, right?”

“Not really,” he admits.

Darcy gasps in horror. “That’s almost as bad as not watching Star Wars.” She regards him suspiciously. “You have seen Star Wars, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I’ve seen Star Wars,” Steve assures her with an amused twist to his lips.

“You would not be allowed to leave until you had seen all of them had you not seen Star Wars,” Darcy states gravely. “And after dinner, we’re watching at least the first Harry Potter movie. _At least._ ”

*****

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets is coming to an end on Steve’s TV, but he isn’t paying any attention to it anymore. Darcy fell asleep around the time giant spiders were going after Harry and Ron. Her head is resting on his chest and she’s flung her legs across his lap. He doesn’t want to wake her up, so he hasn’t moved.

(He’s only barely breathing.) 

If she woke up, she’d leave. He knows that. And Steve doesn’t really want her to leave. But what should he do? Sleeping on the couch can’t be that comfortable, but what else could he do? He’s not sure he’d survive her sleeping in his bed, and he couldn’t in good conscience sleep there with her.

Really, Steve doesn’t want to leave Darcy all alone. So he’ll fall asleep with her on this damned couch. Can’t he let himself have this? It’s probably selfish, probably bordering on creepy and wrong, but he’d like to at least have this memory for when she inevitably must leave, when he must let her before either of them get hurt.

*****

Darcy wakes up sprawled across Steve, horizontal on the couch, her head on his chest, his arms clamped around her. If she were admitting things like this, she would admit that she’d kind of like to wake up with him more than once. She won’t admit things like that, though. That would just be dumb. And whatever those high school girls would imply (because of her rack and internalized misogyny-- thanks, patriarchy!), Darcy Lewis is not dumb.

Steve hums, long and low, before opening his (beautiful) blue eyes. “Sorry,” he whispers. “You fell asleep last night and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

All Darcy can really think of is how this is the most vulnerable she’s ever seen him and there’s a level of trust there in knowing that. She’s not sure if it makes her happy or if it makes her want to cry. “It’s okay,” she says and she moves away from him.

Steve sees her out the door awkwardly and apologizes again. Darcy isn’t really sure what for. (Making her like him? He’d better apologize for that. She does not want to like someone who doesn’t like her, and she’s getting dangerously close here.)

Damn, Darcy’s glad she doesn't have to deal with Tony today. If she'd had to hear him make one more fucking sex joke, she swears she would've killed him.


	3. and if you say this makes you happy

Thor looks at his little lightening sister meaningfully. “What has happened between you and the Captain while I’ve been absent?”

Jane smiles gleefully and Darcy can hear her right now, giddily reminding Darcy that Thor’s the god of thunder _and_ fertility (of course, Darcy had just asked if that’s what made Thor so good in bed and Jane ignored her) so he can probably tell that Steve and Darcy are sleeping together. Well, the joke's on Jane, because guess who _still_ isn't getting any! ...Wait. 

“Oh, we’re dating,” Darcy says casually.

Thor nods, but there’s something in his eyes that says he knows there’s more to the story and Darcy Esther Lewis, you are not fooling anyone. Hey, if they fool everyone except the honest-to-God god (ha!), she’ll be alright with that.

As long as he doesn’t spill the beans, anyway.

“Really?” Thor’s eyes are twinkling at her. She is doing her best to communicate through only facial expressions that she will fucking tase him again if he tells anybody what he may or not know. “I believe you told me once that you hoped he stepped on a Lego. I was given to understand that this was gravest above all of the Midgardian insults. Is this incorrect?” He blinks innocently.

She is going to make sure he steps on a _billion_ Legos if he ruins this for her. “No, that's right,” she says through gritted teeth. Darcy makes an effort to relax before she says simply, “I changed my mind.”

“Ah,” Thor nods gravely. “The best of us can make incorrect judgements,” he says sagely.

Darcy would be proud of him for being such a little shit if it wasn't making her itch to punch him in the face. “Wow, sure glad I'm allowed to make mistakes,” she says bitterly.

Thor’s eyebrows draw together. “Jane, my heart, would you like to go ahead and join our friends? I would speak to our little sister alone.”

Jane tries to shrug nonchalantly. She epically fails. “Okay,” she says in an obvious attempt at casual. The giddiness still sort of seeps into her voice. “I'll just,” she tightens her lips to hide her smile, “go talk to Natasha.”

About her, of course. Darcy _knows_. She is not impressed, thank you.

Jane exits the room trying to suppress a smile. Darcy makes a face at her and hopes she never tries to go into acting because she’s a terrible liar.

Thor steps closer to Darcy and places his hand between her shoulder blades. “My Lady Darcy, will you not tell me the honest truth of your relationship with my shield brother?”

Darcy looks at him for a long, tense, moment, before saying, “Fine. I’ll tell you. But you have to promise not to tell anyone else. Not even Jane!”

“I swear to you upon Mjolnir herself,” Thor says solemnly, “I will tell no one, not even my heart match.”

She pauses. The story isn't exactly flattering. But maybe if she says it fast enough, it won’t sound as bad. She wrinkles her nose and says, “So Nat and Bucky set me up on a blind date with Steve and we were both getting sick of being set up so I said we should pretend to date and then have a nasty breakup so Nat and Bucky wouldn’t try setting us up for a while but it may sort of be backfiring?” She looks at Thor and shrugs, giving him her patented So I Fucked Up But Still You Love Me Because I’m Cute face.

Thor leads Darcy to the table and pulls out a chair, the legs scraping against the tiled floor. “I think we must sit while you explain to me how this is ‘backfiring’.”

Darcy plops into the chair and smacks her head down onto her arms. “Ugh,” she groans.

Thor pats her back in a way that she is sure is supposed to be reassuring. Instead, it just feels like he's pounding her back because she's choking.

(A more morbid part of her thinks that she might be choking because isn't that what it's supposed to feel like to... _like_ someone who doesn't like you?)

She groans for, like, ten seconds at least before finally beginning to answer Thor. “It’s supposed to be fake but it’s kind of sort of not. At least for me, anyway.” Her hands throw themselves up. “I mean, I was totally set on hating the dude ‘cause he doesn’t like me and I am petty.” Darcy punctuates each of the last three words with a tiny nod. “But then when I was actually around him...” She presses her face to her palms and sighs. “It’s really hard to hate him. God, it’s so hard to hate him. And I figured out that I couldn’t do it. And that was okay, except I can’t apparently just feel like he’s a friend because I don’t do things halfway, I guess,” she says self-deprecatingly. “But it doesn’t matter because he still doesn’t fucking _like_ me, _God_.” Darcy sniffles a little bit and wipes at her eyes. “I know I’m, like, super pathetic right now. Sorry.”

Thor looks thoughtful. Slowly, he nods twice and says, “It is painful indeed to feel one’s heart tugging towards one who does not also feel the pull. But, my dear sister,” and he rests his hand on her forearm and his tone is achingly gentle, “are you certain his heart does not also draw him to you?”

A laugh tears itself from her lips, a high, bitter, brittle thing. “Trust me,” she says with pain clear in her voice, “I’m certain.” His eyebrows draw together and he takes a breath. She’s sure he’s about to say something, but she doesn’t really want to hear it. “Please,” she waves her hand, “I don’t really want to talk about this any more.”

“Of course,” he nods. “I understand this is an upsetting topic and I will respect your wishes. But...” He pauses and thinks. No, he will not say what he thinks, that his shield brother and his little sister would be good together, that he suspects Steven feels for Darcy something quite like what she feels for him. Though he will not say it, he finds he cannot allow the conversation to end without trying to give her some hope. “Do not assume too quickly that he feels nothing,” he finally says. Hopefully the underlying tone of urgency convinces her there is something _more_ there.

Her lips turn up in a sad little half-smile and softly, almost inaudibly, she says, “Nothing more than friendship.” There is something steely and final in her voice that signals the conversation is over. He won't challenge it. After all, he has first hand experience with how dangerous his little lightening sister can be when she feels threatened.

So Thor nods, stands, extends his hand to Darcy, and helps her up. “Come, let us join my dearest Jane and our companions.”

“You go.” She waves him along. When he pauses, she explains, “I just need, like, half a second to get my shit together. I'll be right there.”

Thor nods understandingly and leaves. Darcy watches him go and thinks longingly about the softness in his voice and eyes when he says Jane’s name. Is that the way she sounds and looks when she talks about Steve?

God, she hopes not!

The thought bursts violently across her mind. That would make her way too vulnerable. There's enough of herself that she can't hide as well as she'd like already, thank you.

Almost disinterestedly, she notes her hands shaking as she runs icy water from the kitchen sink over them. Now they’re almost as cold as her heart, she thinks with an attempt at her usual humor. Deeper inside herself, she's scared shitless. When she gets like this... It's not good. When she loses her humor, when she retreats inside herself this way, it means a super shitty night is coming, at least for her.

There's something heavy sitting in her stomach and something tight around her lungs. She can't breathe and she hates it.  
Darcy sincerely hopes no one is expecting her to stay very long, because at this point, it looks like she should get kind of more than slightly drunk, head back to her room, faceplant onto her bed fully clothed, and regret it in the morning. Hopefully with minimal crying, but drunk Darcy is bad at shutting her fucking mouth.

*****

Steve has been waiting in the hall with Jane for probably fifteen minutes. It's really not that bad. He's happy to listen to Doctor Foster talk about her science, though he doesn't much understand it.  
But Jane has not been talking about her science. Instead, Jane was only too happy to explain that Thor asked Darcy to speak to him alone. And that it's about Steve and Darcy's relationship.

At that, Steve felt his blood run cold. First of all– no, that would be second. First of all, Thor is no idiot, so he probably can tell Steve and Darcy aren't really dating– and maybe that Steve has real feelings for Darcy. Second of all, Darcy is probably very worked up if Thor pulled any “overprotective male bullshit”.

That wouldn't be bad, necessarily. Steve likes her passion. She’s gorgeous when she's talking about something she really cares about.

(No, she's gorgeous all the time. It's just especially noticeable then.)

It probably is not difficult for Thor to distinguish the look of slight panic on Steve’s face when Thor emerges from the apartment without Darcy. Steve really doesn't give two shits about that.

“Where's Darcy? Is she okay?” he asks quickly.

Thor gives him a long look and Steve knows. He knows that Thor knows everything, that he and Darcy aren't really dating, and how real his feelings for Thor’s adopted little sister are.

The last part is either what's going to get Steve totally fucked or what's going to save him. He's not really sure which one it is yet.

Sometimes, Steve forgets that Thor is the prince of another realm. But with the way Thor looks at him when he says, “ _Princess_ Darcy,” putting a special emphasis on Darcy's title as Thor’s sister, “will join us in a few moments,” Steve doesn't know how he could possibly forget about Thor being royalty. Still, Steve does not back down. Royalty is nothing.

Thankfully, Thor’s gaze softens after a few seconds of Steve meeting his eyes unflinchingly. He would speak to Steven alone also but he does not wish to ask Jane to leave again. Fortunately, the rest of their comrades have sent the Lady Natasha and the Lady Pepper to bring them to dinner. Darcy exits the apartment and Steve nearly leaps forward.

“Hey,” he breathes.

She swallows the lump in her throat and smiles at him. He reaches for her hand and takes it. Their eyes don't leave each other.

But then Pepper says they need to go and not keep everyone else waiting and the moment is lost.

*****

Darcy’s pretty glad, at this point, that Tony loves alcohol so much. Without it, there’s no way she’d survive the Pseudo-Family Dinner From Hell.

Every time she turns around, there are at least two people that either break off their conversation abruptly (Nat, looking at you), or break into giggles (dammit, Sam and Jane). Yeah, she knows what they’re talking about and why, but it still sucks.

She would say that at least they’re buying it hook, line, and sinker, but that has to do with the fact that Steve hasn’t once left her side since they all got to the common room two hours ago. And he’s kept contact with her every single fucking second. It’s driving her batshit crazy, her ladybits are going nuts, and she’s going to punch the next person who looks at her like that in the throat, she swears to _God_.

Luckily, Steve keeps handing her drinks whenever her hand tightens. She would be more than happy to _thank_ him, but... Well...

Steve hands her a can of soda. She sticks her lower lip out. “C’mon, Darcy,” he coaxes. “You’ve probably had enough alcohol.”

“‘Scuse you,” she hiccups. “I am eighty thousand percent justified in how much I’ve drunk.”

The ground sways a little and she’s not sure what happened but her feet aren’t on the ground anymore. Darcy kicks them a little and realizes Steve is holding her against his chest.

She is so not drunk enough for this.

“What... what’re you doin’?” she asks sleepily.

“Just taking you back to your room,” he soothes.

A discontented hum escapes her lips.

“What’s wrong?’

“S’not part of the plan.”

Steve’s brows probably draw together and he probably looks adorably confused.

Darcy wouldn’t know, though. Her eyelids are half-closed as it is.

“What’s the plan?”

Vaguely, she notes the rumble of his voice in his chest. It feels nice...

“Darcy. What’s the plan?”

Darcy nods, at least she tries. “The plan’s jus’ to not let you know,” she explains, her voice childlike.

“Know what?” Steve asks. He sounds more like Captain America than Steve.

Darcy frowns.

“Can’t tell, silly. It’d ruin the whole plan,” she murmurs. There’s a touch of sadness in her tone.

Steve bites his lip. “Please?” he tries.

She shakes her head. “Lemme go to bed.”

Her voice is shaky. Steve cradles her head. “We’re almost there, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t mean to call her that. It just slips out. But it makes Darcy smile and snuggle into his chest, so he reasons it couldn’t have been a terrible thing. Still, he tells himself as he tucks her into bed and leaves a glass of water and Advil on her bedside table, he won’t do it again.


	4. you look so good in blue

Jane’s new assistant is a nice, reliable kid– most of the time. Unfortunately, Jane’s new assistant is also into Science!, meaning she understands Jane’s babbling and she gets caught up in the Science! with Jane.

And that means that periodically, Darcy has to pop by the labs to make sure that Jane and Elizabeth are still alive and have eaten/slept in the last eighteen hours. And unfortunately, she thinks as she dives beneath a desk, she picked a really shitty day to do it.

Men in black. Why does it always have to be motherfucking men in black? And not the good Will Smith kind, either, but the fucking jackbooted thugs she usually associates with SHIELD. But at this point, she'd much prefer SHIELD and Agent iPod Thief to–

 _Holy shit!_ Those are gunshots, those are definitely gunshots. She pokes her head out, just to make sure Jane and Elizabeth are okay, and sees a very familiar shield take at least three guys out–

 _Like pinball,_ she thinks hysterically, and she gets the sudden urge to laugh.

Darcy walks an emotional tightrope. Her mind teeters between laughing, crying, or both. Before she can fall into either, the gunshots stop abruptly and a deep voice frantically calls her name.

She tries to speak but her throat has dried up. Finally, she whimpers, “Here,” only barely, but it is enough.

Steve kneels underneath the desk and carefully, gently draws her out from her safe space and cradles her against his chest. He murmurs in her ear, low and soothing. “Shh, it's okay. Hey, it's okay. Everyone’s alright.”

It isn't until he wipes tears from her cheeks with a stroke of his thumb that she realizes she's crying.

In a move that feels vaguely familiar, he stands up, still cradling her against him. Darcy unwittingly burrows deeper into his chest and allows his shirt to soak up her tears as he carries her from the lab.

*****

Darcy wakes the same way she woke three days ago. Her head pounds, she is in desperate need of some fluid, and she can't really remember why she's there. Unlike that morning three days ago, however, she begins to recall what happened, the gunmen in the lab, Steve carrying her to medical, holding her hand while they waited for her to be cleared, and then him carrying her back to her bed.

Someone knocks on the door.

“Come in,” she calls.

Steve enters cautiously, a glass of water and Advil in his hands. “How are you feeling?”

She shrugs. “Better, now.”

He approaches her bed and hands her the water and medicine, still moving like she's an easily frightened animal.

“I don't mind you being in my room,” Darcy says a little crossly. “It's okay.” Steve’s movements are surer, but still hesitant, until she adds, “and I'm not going to go hysterical on you again.” She still sounds angry, but her anger has found a target: herself.

Steve forgets himself and finds that his hands are, of their own volition, holding Darcy, rubbing her back, smoothing through her hair. “Hey, no, come on,” he murmurs. “That wasn't your fault.”

“Wasn't it? I didn't react that way in Puente Antiguo or London, and they were way worse than that! That should have been nothing.” Spite and scorn are still present in her voice, but she has relaxed into Steve’s touch. He takes that as a good sign.

“London and Puente Antiguo were completely different than the attack yesterday,” he argues.

Darcy snorts. “No kidding. Darcy Lewis: she can save puppies and keep her cool during two alien attacks, but she totally freaks out when confronted with regular, gun-wielding thugs.”

He's sitting on Darcy’s bed at this point, and he can't seem to stop himself from pulling her into his chest. There is no one around. This is not for show, and a thrill (excitement or fear?) goes through him at the realization.

But this is about Darcy.

He tries to think about what Sam would say. Sam is good at comforting people, though he needs comfort every bit as much as the rest of them.

“It's okay that your reactions were different. It makes sense, really. Aliens don't seem real. Guns– that's real, and you know you're in danger.”

Darcy slings her legs across him, so she's almost sitting on his lap, and rests her head on his chest.

“Yeah.” Her voice is quiet, almost defeated. “I guess.”

“It doesn't make you weak, Darcy,” he pleads. He needs her to believe him, to understand what he is telling her. She is not weak. She loves and she lives even after everything she has been through. That alone proves her strength. “It's okay to cry.” He squeezes her hand, all out of words.

Darcy looks at Steve and her breath catches. He believes in her. He doesn't think she's weak. That gives her strength in a way that Darcy herself is surprised by.

And there's something else there in his eyes that gives her hope for them, that maybe this isn't all fake.

But as quickly as the moment is caught between them, it releases as Steve releases Darcy. He stands and rubs the back of his neck. “I should, um, let you get dressed.”

“Right,” she says, and bites at her lower lip.

“Thor, Jane, and Natasha really wanted to see you. They all did, actually...”

“Of course.” Darcy forces a smile. Steve closes the door behind him and she is left alone.

*****

Darcy feels strange all afternoon, off, in some subtle way. Oh, she talks and laughs with Jane, she acts normal. Pepper gives her the day off, and she watches movies in the common room with Thor, Jane, Natasha, Bucky, Sam, and Steve. She and Sam team up to decide on the classics everyone else _has_ to see, with Jane adding her opinion occasionally.

Natasha knows something isn't right with Darcy, just as surely as if she could see the electricity Darcy feels skittering across her skin. Darcy can see the knowledge and the question in Natasha’s eyes, but she ignores it. She doesn't want to talk about it. She wants to let Natasha sit with Bucky and Sam, not exactly cuddling, but still intimate. She wants to let Jane sit on Thor’s lap over there in the armchair, no drama, just peace and comfort.

And as for what Darcy wants for herself?

Easy. Steve.

He's there, sitting next to her on the loveseat, and his arm is around her, but he's tense, and she is more aware than ever exactly how much of an act this is and how much she wishes it wasn't. 

She wants him to press kisses to her head, forehead, nose, cheeks, lips. She wants him to look at her the way all these _fucking_ couples she's surrounded with look at each other. She wants him to need her, to want her.

She wants him.

But hey, she also wanted a unicorn for her fourth birthday. Darcy’s wanted plenty of things she can't have.

It feels like not even a surprise when Steve stands abruptly and nearly drags her into the kitchen with him. Why not? Darcy probably should've expected this. There's a sinking in her stomach that says she knows exactly what he wants to talk about.

“Hey, Darcy.” He runs a hand through his hair. “So. I was thinking...”

The weight slides lower in her stomach and pulls her heart with it. No, please, let her have this, just a little longer. Not today. Not today, please.

“I think it's time for, you know...”

“Us to break up,” she clarifies, quiet and white-faced.

Steve shrugs and nods.

“Fine,” she says. Her face is completely blank. “Right now?” She raises her eyebrow, almost daring him to say yes.

“Oh... Okay...” He sounds almost reluctant... but no, no, she's probably just projecting her feelings and he said okay, didn't he?

Her frustration and anger and hurt fuel her, and she yells, “Oh my God, Steve! I can make my own decisions.”

The other room goes quiet. They’re listening. _Good._

“Darcy...” Steve sighs. He sees where she's going with this and he doesn't much like it. It hits a little close to home. At least it's realistic.

“No! You can't just decide this for me. That's not how relationships work.” She is still a good actress. The tears in her eyes look almost real. He isn't quite sure _why_ , there isn't anyone else in the kitchen to see them.

“Do you know how I felt, Darce, when I thought that you might be hurt? Or worse? It was... awful. I couldn't live with it if _I_ were the reason you got hurt, sweetheart.” Fuck He didn't mean to call her that.

Her heart twinges and she hates it. It-- her heart, this situation, her _stupid fucking idea._ There’s a desperate energy now, she can feel it, a vindictiveness, a willingness to tear this apart and herself with it.

“Well, you’re hurting me,” she says calmly. “Right now. You’re hurting me. If you break up with me, that will hurt me.” 

Steve’s eyebrows draw together. He looks pained, and it makes Darcy’s stupid heart twinge again. She ignores it. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. She’ll get over it and be better off without him. He has indulged himself long enough. 

(But this isn’t real. He’s forgotten. This isn’t real, but it feels all too real, and even he isn’t sure if they’re actually fighting or not.) 

Steve can’t take it anymore. He pauses, longing to reach out, touch her, sweep the hair from her face, kiss her. But she would not welcome it, he knows. He settles for brushing the hand hanging at her side and whispering, “I'm sorry,” one more time before leaving the kitchen. 

Darcy stands there, left alone again. A wave of dizziness washes over her and she clutches at the counter. Everything is too bright, too harsh. The cold of the counter bites into her palms and steadies her. Her head held high, she marches through the living room, pretending not to notice the looks the others throw her and each other. Stubborn tears hang like diamonds in her eyes, refusing to fall. She's grateful. Darcy is definitely an ugly crier. 

The tears in her eyes begin to trace shining trails over her cheeks as she gets out in the hall and starts rushing to the elevator. The only thing she wants right now is to be alone her apartment, where she can shower, wrap herself in a blanket, drink tea, listen to Florence + the Machine, and cry freely. 

Footsteps echo in the corridor behind her. It isn't Natasha who's come after her, then, her footsteps are always silent or very deliberately audible. They're too quiet to be Thor’s steps. He is loud, though it always feels purposeful. It must be Jane, or maybe Sam. They might send Sam. 

“Darcy!” 

The voice that calls out her name shocks her. She had not even considered that it would be Bucky. Sure, he's friends with her, but he's brothers in all but blood with Steve. Why would he possibly– 

“Hey, Darce–” He catches her elbow and she spins around. 

“Please,” she chokes out. Her voice breaks, maybe a little like her heart. No that's overdramatic, she tells herself, _don't be ridiculous, Darcy._

Bucky looks uncomfortable. He scuffs his shoe against the floor, seeming very interested in the dark tones of the tile flooring rather than Darcy. 

She wants to leave, get away from the cruel, uncaring lights, flee to the darkness that understands that not everything is meant for other people to see. But she can't leave Bucky, who came after her, who cares about her. 

Finally, he looks up into tear-stained eyes and says, gruffly, “The punk’s even more fucking stupid than I thought if he's willing to let a kind, smart, gorgeous dame like you slip by him.” 

Darcy manages a tremulous smile. “Thanks,” she whispers. 

Bucky nods and turns away. Abruptly, he turns back and says, “Darce? If you need anything...” 

“Yeah,” she nods. “I know.” 

He hesitates, then takes her hand and pulls her into a hug. Darcy allows herself a few seconds to sniffle into his shoulder before she pulls away and steps into the elevator. 


	5. like a train on a track

Steve is an idiot, and Bucky is going to kill him.

That feeling is really nothing new. One would think, in fact, that Bucky is quite used to feeling that way. When you’re friends with Steven Grant Rogers, you feel that way at least once a week. At least.

But this is different than Bucky’s usual exasperation. Steve hadn’t gotten into a fight with a bully a good hundred pounds bigger than him. He hadn’t jumped out of a plane without a parachute again. No, he’d just proved that he really was as shit with women as everyone assumed.

Bucky is honestly almost personally offended by this on two parts. First of all, Darcy is easily one of the best people in the tower. She’s human and she cares about them. She’s kind and loving and fierce. Bucky loves her like a little sister. To say he’s not pleased that Steve hurt her is a bit of an understatement. Secondly, didn’t the punk learn _anything_ he taught him? After all, _Bucky_ is charming enough to land Sam _and_ Natasha. He tried, Lord knows, to pass his skill on to Steve, but Lord also knows Steve failed miserably.

So maybe Bucky isn’t heading to Steve’s apartment this morning to _hurt_ him, but what, he asks, is the point of being tortured and brainwashed for seventy years if you can’t even use it to strike a little fear into your friends and push them on to the right path?

It's not _torture_ he's planning. Just a little bit of... friendly... threatening.

He doesn’t even bother to knock, just walks straight in. “Alright, Steve, wake up. We’re gonna have a little–”

He stops dead in his tracks. Steve is still in bed. Asleep. Bucky didn't expect Steve to _actually_ be asleep. He’s always been a morning person. It’s long been the most annoying thing about him.

“Uh... Steve...?” he says cautiously.

Steve’s eyes crack open. “Unless you’ve got some of that Asgardian shit, kindly fuck off.”

“What did I do to deserve this?” Bucky wonders archly.

“You set me up with Darcy,” Steve grumbles. He rolls over, away from Bucky. Bucky rolls his eyes, huffs, and literally hauls Steve’s sorry ass out of bed. He drags his pathetic best friend into the kitchen and makes him a cup of absolutely terrible coffee that is extremely successful in its purpose of waking Steve up. Then he asks the obvious question. “Well, if you're so broken up about it, why'd you break up with her?”

Steve shifts in his seat and gulps down more tar– _coffee_. “‘S’a long story.” He stares at the floor.

Bucky takes of sip of his own (perfectly prepared) coffee and looks expectantly at Steve. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. Steve will cave as soon as Bucky gives him a Look, which Bucky will do if Steve doesn't tell him in five, four, three, two–

“It was her idea.”

 _There we go._ But Bucky doesn't say anything, just waves his hand and motions for Steve to continue.

“We were kind of tired of getting set up with people. So to make it stop or maybe get revenge, I don't know, we decided to pretend to date and then break up.”

Bucky stares at him, dumbfounded. “That is,” he says, “ _the worst_ idea you've ever had.”

“It wasn't my idea!” Steve protests. “It was–”

“The worst idea you've ever had, I know,” Bucky interrupts. “I mean, I know you're an idiot, ‘specially when it comes to feelings, but come on, you didn't really think you could date Darcy Lewis and not end up head over heels in love with her, did you?”

“I, uh...”

“Are y’really gonna try and deny that you’re in love with her?” Bucky raises his eyebrows.

“No?” Steve tries.

“Damn straight. Now,” Bucky glares at Steve, just a little bit, “why the _fuck_ are you sitting here talking to me ‘stead of making time with Darce?”

Steve rubs at his eyes. “It ain’t that easy, Buck.”

Bucky snorts. “The hell you mean, it ain’t that easy?”

Steve sighs. His shoulders slump. Every inch of him screams resignation. “She doesn’t... she doesn’t feel the same way. Just acting,” he mumbles.

The words hit Bucky and he freezes, mug halfway to his lips. He stares at Steve, mouth slightly agape. “You don't... You don't actually _think_ that?” he asks in horror and a sort of disgusted awe.

Steve doesn't respond, but he kind of shrugs, and it's obvious what he thinks. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Bucky mutters, putting his mug down and bringing one hand up to cover his eyes. He sits like that for a few moments, unable to cope with the sheer _stupidity_. Sometimes he doesn't know how he's managed to be friends with such a bonehead for this long. “That was just acting, and my hair is white.”

“Well, you are about a hundred,” Steve says wryly.

“One,” Bucky holds up a finger, “so are you, we've been over this, two, that's not the point and you know it, and three, don't fucking interrupt me.” He pauses and glares at Steve, who holds his hands up in surrender and keeps his mouth firmly shut. “She left last night about thirty seconds after you did, didn't look at any of us. Wouldn't cry in front of any of us, either, but I followed her out into the hallway ‘cause that was not acting. I can read people better than that. And Stevie... She wouldn't cry, but I got out there and she was a mess, tears streaming down her face, looking like her heart broke. She didn't know I was coming out there. She didn't know there was anyone to act for. That was real, Steve.”

Steve is in shock. Darcy... She doesn't... There's no way... But Bucky is telling him so and Bucky knows, he can read people, Steve knows, and Darcy wouldn't have been acting, there would've been no reason to pretend at that point... It has to be true. “Oh,” he says numbly.

Bucky snorts. “ _Oh_ ,” he shakes his head disbelievingly. “Alright, go get the girl, ya idiot.”

It takes Steve several seconds to process everything. Darcy... loves him. Darcy loves him. _Darcy loves him._

_Holy shit._

He jumps up. “I, um,” he stumbles over a chair, “I have to go.” He makes to rush out the door, but Bucky calls him back.

“Oh, and Steve?”

Bucky’s tone is overly friendly. Steve takes his hand off the doorknob and turns around cautiously. “Yeah?”

“I'm not saying I'll rearrange your face if you break her heart, but I am saying that you'll have at least a Norse god, a brilliant astrophysicist, at least one assassin, a crazy inventor, and Pepper Potts pissed off at you. Wouldn't want that, would we?”

“No, Buck.” Steve rolls his eyes and turns back around.

“Don't worry, I'll tell her not to break your heart, too!” Bucky shouts. He waits until he hears the door open because he is an asshole, then yells, “One more thing!”

Steve says, with what he considers to be great patience, “What is it?”

Bucky smirks. “You might want to get dressed? Just a suggestion.”

Steve blushes and throws, “You're such an ass,” at Bucky as he sprints back to his room.

*****

Pepper is the best boss ever.

Like, of course that doesn't surprise anyone, especially not Darcy. But still, it means a lot to her when she shows up to work with puffy red eyes and a runny nose, hair and clothes that can barely be called professional, and Pepper takes one look at her, postpones her morning meeting, and pulls out the emergency chocolate stash.

They do not take the emergency chocolate stash lightly.

What's even better is that all morning, Pepper doesn't say a single word about Steve. They talk about the new Ghostbusters and dumbass dudebros on the internet. Pepper tells Darcy about the pretty little wedding she went to last weekend for Lillian, head of accounting, and Maria, who's over HR. Apparently, she gave them a very nice wedding present along with bonuses. Darcy understands. Maria does have to deal with the walking-HR-nightmare that is Tony Stark.

Darcy shows Pepper her favorite vines (the one with the cat giving a presidential speech about Ebola is _classic_ , but the sand guardian, guardian of the sand is the Ultimate) and they have a little bit of a dance party. Alcohol, very, very _small_ amounts of alcohol, may have been involved. If ever she is asked, Darcy will plead the fifth.

Sometime after eleven, Pepper stops dancing. Still holding Darcy’s hands, she says apologetically, “I'm sorry, Darcy, but I have a lunch meeting I can't get out of.”

“Oh.” Darcy slides one hand away and tugs on the ends of the hair that spill over her shoulder, almost black against the creamy color of her oversized sweater.

“If you want, you can take the afternoon off...” Pepper looks carefully at Darcy, who looks at the ground.

“Um,” she says, her voice soft and quiet and young, “I don’t... I don’t really...” No, she can’t take the afternoon off, she’d be alone, with her thoughts, she never does well alone like this.

“Okay,” Pepper’s face is soft. “I think they could use some supervision down in the labs.” She doesn’t say what she’s really thinking, that Jane is in the labs, and Thor might be down there too, so that even if Pepper can’t be there, someone will be. “You can go there for the afternoon, and maybe we can have a girls’ night tonight?”

It feels a little bit like Pepper’s mothering her, but Darcy doesn’t mind. She’s often the Mom Friend herself, to be fair, and as far as Pepper and Tony are concerned, they’ve all but adopted her. “Yeah, sounds good. I should probably go armed with Poptarts... Maybe I’ll order Chinese. Jane likes Chinese...” Darcy mutters as she leaves.

Not five minutes later, Steve bursts into the room, panting and out of breath. “Pepper! Do you know where Darcy is?”

(He’d taken the stairs, much too impatient to wait for the elevator.)

“I do,” Pepper says calmly. She doesn’t look up from her screen, nor does she stop typing.

“Where is she?” Steve is a little uncertain now, she can hear it in his voice.

Perfect.

“Sit down, Steve.”

It's not said like a command, but there is no doubt in Steve’s mind that is what it is. He sits.

She takes her time finishing the email she's writing. Then, finally and very deliberately, she looks at Steve. “What do you want with Darcy?”

“I, um, I...” he stammers. “I don't think I know what you mean?”

“Really?” Pepper says pleasantly. “I think you do know what I mean.” Still, he looks confused. So she says, even more pleasantly (at this point that's its own kind of threat), “Let me explain it to you. You see, Steve, I am a busy woman. Head of a Fortune 500 company, my partner is a superhero _and_ Tony Stark, and I often have to babysit the rest of his team. Darcy Lewis is an incredibly valuable person to me and I cannot afford to have her emotionally compromised the way she was this morning.”

 _The way she was this morning._ The words reverberate around Steve’s mind and his heart clenches.

“Not only that, but I adore Darcy as a person. I think of her as a part of my family. Do you know what I will do to protect the people I love?”

He does. He has an idea, at least. “Yes, ma’am.”

She’s told him before not to call her ma’am, just Pepper, but she doesn’t now. She smiles, sharp and shark-like, and he sees Ms. Potts, the terrifyingly competent CEO of Stark Industries.

“Now, you're looking for Darcy?”

He nods.

“So you'll understand me asking. What do you want with her?”

Steve rubs the back of his neck and grins ruefully. “Don’t worry, Bucky already chewed my ass out over it. I just... I didn’t mean to fall in love with her, but I did, and I need to tell her that I’m sorry and I love her.”

Pepper stares at him, expressionless for an achingly long moment. Steve stands to leave. He understands if Pepper still doesn't want to tell him where Darcy is. He'll just go find her himself.

“Wait,” Pepper calls. She gives him a hint of a smile and her face is warm and understanding again. “She's with Jane in the labs.”

Steve thanks her, and then he is off again, sprinting down stairs two, three, four, five at a time.

*****

Jane actually breaks away from her work to hug Darcy when she enters the lab. Darcy doesn't know which she's more surprised by.

“How are you feeling?” Jane asks sympathetically.

“Oh, alright,” Darcy says much too cheerily. Her eyes are overbright and her smile is too wide. But her message comes through loud and clear. She isn’t alright but she doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Okay...” Jane gives her a sort of funny look but tugs her the rest of the way into the labs. “Did you sleep last night? Have you eaten? How many cups of coffee have you had?”

“Yes, a little, and just one.” Darcy regards Jane suspiciously. “Are you... are you trying to _wrangle_ me?”

“No,” Jane laughs nervously and much too quickly, “why would you think that?”

“Oh my G... You _are_!” Darcy accuses her. But she’s smiling, so Jane will count it as a victory.

“Well, you helped me keep it together when Thor left, so I figured...”

Darcy stops and gives Jane a huge hug. “Janie, that’s the sweetest. But you should stick to Science! I don’t think you’re really suited for wrangling.”

Jane raises an eyebrow. “Well, alright, if you insist,” she says dryly.

“Liza!” Darcy calls.

Jane’s assistant looks up and smiles. “Hi, Darcy. How's it going?”

“Oh, alright,” Darcy says, and Jane is pleased to note that it's less forced than earlier. “Hey, it's getting close to lunchtime. You guys know what you're doing?”

Elizabeth grins ruefully and pushes her dark, unruly hair away from her face. “I guess I hadn't really thought about it yet.”

Darcy looks between the other two women indulgently. “ _How_ you survive without me...” She shakes her head. “I can order something if you don't want to leave the lab.”

“Thanks, that would be great,” Liza yells. Darcy shakes her head again and walks into the little side office to make a call. Looks could be deceiving– and they very much were. Jane was tiny, but when she actually ate, she could eat twice as much as a regular human, which is still half as much as Thor, who would also probably be down here sooner or later.

She was going to have to order a lot of food.

*****

Steve rounds the last corner of the hall leading to Jane’s lab, and runs into Thor. Literally. He picks himself off, dusts himself off, looks up at the sky, and very loudly demands to know, “What the _actual fuck_?!”

“Steven,” Thor booms genially. Much too genially.

“Yes, I know, don't break Darcy's heart, got it. Bucky and Pepper both already talked to me separately, and I get it, I really do, I've been an idiot, and I would just like to go and talk to Darcy now, please.”

Thor’s eyes widened a little. “I am glad to hear you have a, er, _thorough_ understanding of the situation. I believe all will end well.” He pats Steve on the shoulder and directs him into the labs. “Let us go and see our beloveds.”

Jane is not happy to see Steve. “Thor, honey, I love you, but why the hell is he here?”

Thor grins at Jane sappily while she glares at Steve, who holds his hands out in front of himself. “Look, I just want to talk to Darcy.”

“Don't know why you need to do that. Sounded to me like you did plenty of talking last night,” Jane says. She folds her arms across her chest.

Steve stutters and stumbles, trying desperately to defend himself. “No, I... I... no, it wasn't like that, you don't know everything...”

But with every word Jane looks less and less impressed.

Thor interrupts him. “I love how fierce and protective you are, my Jane–” he kisses her on the forehead– “but Steven tells the truth. There is more to the story. He must speak with Lady Darcy and right what would otherwise be a most grievous wrong. I will explain what has happened while he speaks with her alone?”

Thor does not want to disregard his lady’s wishes. She wants to protect her sister. He understands. But they must give Steven the opportunity, at the least, to explain himself to Darcy. She can refuse him if she desires, but she must be allowed to make that decision for herself.

“Alright,” Jane says, eyes still narrowed. “But Captain, I don't want to hear Darcy crying again today.”

“Me either,” Steve promises.

*****

Darcy flinches when she sees him come in the door, eyes wide. She says, “Thank you very much,” to whoever she's on the phone with, voice shaky, and hangs up, hands trembling.

“Hey,” Steve says.

“Steve,” she nods. Her voice is almost empty of emotion, as she'd like it to be, but no matter how hard she tries, it isn't quite. The lightest pink taints it, oh-so-faintly tinting her tone with warmth and love and hope, yes– but there's blue there too (sadness and resignation and hurt).

But then he says her name, and _oh_ , but he doesn't hold anything back. Her name in his mouth is crimson with love and adoration, with delicate, soft lavender and honey-gold accents, and she can almost hear, just in that, everything he feels for her.

Almost. So maybe she does think that Steve really is a good person and a great guy and everything she wants, and maybe she does wonder what he'd see in her– she didn’t even finish her degree! Maybe it’s hard to think that he could want her, or maybe that anyone could want her, because that’s not something she’s heard a lot. Sue her.

And then... and then, and then–

“I love you.”

Darcy’s mouth falls open.

He's still talking, nervous, convinced he's fucked up, but she isn't listening. He... loves her? Steve _loves_ her? He doesn't ever say things he doesn't mean, not like this, and he's never cruel, he wouldn't lie to her...

“–and I know that's kind of fast, maybe too fast, but I am, and I didn't ever mean to hurt you and I'm so sorry if I did–”

“Wait,” Darcy says, shaking her head, “you _love_ me?”

Steve grins sheepishly, nervously. “Um, yeah. Yeah, I do.” Then his face goes a little bit white and he quickly adds, “Unless that freaks you out or scares you, in which case, maybe, but I definitely _like_ you a lot.”

“Okay,” Darcy smiles, fond and amused, almost indulgent. She feels it, the truth of it, resonate in her bones, and for now, it is enough to drive her insecurities away. “That's really good.”

“It is?” Steve blurts. He winces. Bucky would be cursing him for a fool if he could hear this.

“Yeah, it is,” she nods, that same little smile still on her face, “‘cause I'm kind of in love with you too.”

“Oh,” he exhales. “ _Oh._ ”

“Well, are you gonna just stand there, soldier boy?” Darcy tilts her head up and smirks at him.

“No, ma'am,” he breathes. He leans down and presses his lips to hers and it's everything their first kiss was and everything it should've been.

Darcy breaks away first. She glances out the window and see Jane, Thor, and Liza, of course, but Sam, Natasha, and Bucky are there too, trying very hard to look like they're not trying very hard to listen to what Steve and Darcy are up to. Except Nat, of course, who would win a gold medal in looking casual and effortless. Still. Bunch of voyeurs.

“I think you should stop taking relationship advice from Bucky,” Darcy says very solemnly– until she hears an indignant “Hey!” from outside the room. Then she breaks into giggles.

Steve laughs with her and presses his forehead to hers, like he doesn't ever want to be parted from her.

Out in the lab, Natasha raises a delicate eyebrow at Bucky, who shrugs. Hey, if they want to get up to it in there... Then the other eyebrow goes up, and he gulps. Bucky strides over to the office and throws the door open. “Alright, lovebirds, I think it's time for you to go home. Don't care where you go, actually. Just get outta here.”

For once in his life, Steve doesn't have a problem taking orders.

As they pass him, Natasha, and Sam, Bucky mutters, “Did you know they were faking?”

Sam rolls his eyes. _He_ didn't know, not really, but he'll bet anything–

“Of course I knew,” Natasha scoffed. “I know everything.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
